My Talent's Name Is Generator

Inside the private auditorium at Avenue Academy, I stood with about 100 other boys and girls, all in different groups. The auditorium only had a stage at the front, and the rest of the space was wide open—no seats, just standing room.

Our academy had a slogan: “Man today, soldier tomorrow.”

So, considering that, how could they allow us any comfort?

Man today… I couldn’t help but wonder what all the girls in the room thought. Pretty sure they’d have a different opinion about that slogan.

But I never needed comfort. I always needed and wanted action.

And so I stood with my friends, shadowboxing in front of Steve’s face. The instructor wasn’t going to be here for another 15 minutes, but I couldn’t wait, so, my punches were just inches away from Steve’s face instead.

Steve stood there as usual, half-closed eyes, hands in his pockets, staring at my punches without so much as a blink.

‘I wish my punch had enough power to at least send his hair flying back.’

Nik, one of my friends, asked.

“Hey, Billion, did you even sleep last night?”

Before I could even get a word out, Feng, another friend, jumped in.

“I don’t think so. I’m sure he was going crazy with all that energy.”

But I did sleep.

In fact, I had slept earlier than usual, like a rock.

I just needed the night to pass. What better way than to sleep? You close your eyes at night, open them, and bam—it’s day.

I bent down slightly, my punches aimed on Steve’s midsection now.

“No, Feng. I slept peacefully.”

I said between punches, wishing I could actually land one on someone’s flesh.

“I just wanted today to start… as soon as possible.”

Suddenly, I saw Steve shift his eyes away from my punches, glancing at something else.

I followed his gaze.

A group of ten boys was walking toward us. At the front was Cena, the bad boy of our batch.

Jerks like him seemed like a given in every group. Right behind him were his minions, trailing along like ants following their queen.

I stopped my punches and straightened up, sliding my hands into my pockets.

I tilted my neck just a little, pushed out my chest, and walked straight toward the incoming threat.

As the alpha of my group, it was my duty to face such threats and I took that seriously. Very seriously.

I felt Steve turn and fall in step beside me, ready to face Cena as well.

He leaned in and whispered.

“Control yourself. I don’t need you starting anything and ruining the rest of my day, unless, of course, he throws the first punch.”

I simply nodded, keeping my eyes locked on Cena.

Steve and I walked toward Cena’s group, and they headed straight for us. Step by step, we closed the distance, finally stopping just a few feet away, close enough that a punch could land without taking a step.

I did it on purpose. I wanted to punch this idiot. Maybe even deform his ugly face.

But could I? No. Academy rules.

I locked eyes with him, my gaze challenging, waiting for him to speak and pollute the air.

And, of course, he did exactly that.

Cena sneered, his words dripping with venom.

“Billion, how I wish I could rub your face in the dirt and spit on it. But these damn rules are holding me back. Just one more day, and from tomorrow, you better wash your neck and wait for this King to come for you.”

I couldn’t help but wonder what went on inside this guy’s head.

Who talks like that? We were just teenagers caught up in academy rivalries, but he was acting like some sort of villain for no real reason.

What had I done to him? Sure, I might’ve beaten him a couple of times in sparring, but that’s what sparring is for, right? Who gets offended over something like that?

Okay, maybe I motivated his girlfriend to dump him, but I was just saving her from a guy like him. Any decent person would’ve done the same. And sure, maybe he got suspended for 15 days because of me, but who told him to target Steve? I wasn’t about to let that slide.

I grinned, figuring if I pushed him far enough, maybe he’d try to at-least slap me. Then, I’d finally have a real reason to put him in his place.

“You know, Cena,” I said, leaning in a little closer, “I read somewhere that kings don’t follow rules. They make their own.

So, your highness, I humbly request that you ignore the academy rules and bestow upon me a couple of punches and slaps.”

I kept my gaze locked on him, my grin widening.

I heard a few laughs from the group around us, and I watched as Cena’s smirk slowly melted into a frown.

Well, he’s always been a little dumb and bad with words.

“You can laugh all you want now,” Cena sneered, stepping closer, his voice dropping low and menacing.

“But real life starts tomorrow.”

I watched him move in, and he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered.

“I wonder if your old grandmother will come running to save you when she hears there are no more rules to protect her grandson.”

He scoffed, locking eyes with me for a moment, and then turned away, his minions glaring at me one last time before following him.

“Real life, huh…” I muttered under my breath, the words tasting like fire.

It would be a lie to say I wasn’t pissed off by his comment.

Real life? Sure.

I was more than ready for it to start. Maybe I’ll show him how real life works: by smashing his head into the floor.

Just as I was about to take a step forward, I felt Steve’s hand land firmly on my shoulder.

“Let’s go. It’s time.”

I nodded, letting the anger simmer beneath the surface. Whatever Cena thought he could do tomorrow, I was more than ready to take it head-on. If there was one thing I was always looking for, it was a way to let off some steam. Squats and push-ups just weren’t enough.

And then, a sharp whistle cut through the auditorium like a blade.

I spun around, my legs restless, my thoughts jittery. My heart pounded against my ribs.

It was starting.

I moved with Steve as my batchmates instinctively stepped aside, making way for us.

My blood surged with energy, every step sending a rush of excitement through me. According to the academy’s strict hierarchy, I belonged at the front. Top ranker of the batch, my place was carved in stone. Steve, always steady, took his position at fourth.

Within moments, we were all in formation—ten perfect rows, my row leading the charge.

On stage, standing at the center, was our instructor. Daniel Strongmen. His gaze swept over us like a hawk assessing its prey. Instinct kicked in, and I snapped into a perfect attention stance.

He liked to act tough, but I knew better. Beneath that hardened exterior, there was something else. At forty years old, the man had been through hell and clawed his way back. I’d read his stories—he had lost a lot just to gain a little.

Lean, sharp, and just as tall as Steve, he carried himself with the discipline of a man who had spent the last ten years shaping warriors.

Respected. Feared. A pillar of the academy.

He cleared his throat, and when he spoke, his voice was loud and steady.

“I’m sure all of you already know why you’re here. You know the process. Today is your graduation day… and the last day you will ever spend in this academy. I hope all of you are ready.”

“YES, SIR!”

The auditorium rang with a single deafening response. Mine.

Silence followed. Almost hundred students stood still, but all eyes flicked toward me.

Daniel’s gaze locked onto me instantly, his eyes narrowing, sharp and unyielding, as if he wanted to burn me to ash where I stood.

I held his stare, my head dipping slightly—not in submission, but in challenge.

For as long as I’d been in this academy, we had butted heads. Our ideologies clashed too much. He believed in discipline, in moving unnoticed, in striking only when necessary. I believed in the opposite. I wanted to be seen. To be known. I wanted my enemies to feel my presence before I even arrived.

I didn’t know when I developed this habit, but I liked it. It fueled me. And I had lived this way ever since.

We locked eyes for a few moments. Then Daniel finally spoke.

“Alright, let’s not waste any more time and begin the process.”

His gaze lingered on me.

“I will call your names one by one. When you hear yours, step into the Awakening Room behind me.”

His eyes drilled into mine as he called the first name.

“Billion Ironhart.”

I nodded and stepped forward. My footsteps echoed through the silent auditorium, the only sound in the room. Even my heartbeat felt loud, pounding against my chest like a war drum.

Stopping in front of Daniel, I found myself looking down at him by a couple of inches, but his presence made me feel small in comparison.

He met my gaze.

“All the best,” he said.

I gave a slight nod and stepped past him, heading straight for the blue door.